


Equilibrium

by HeavenlyAsklepious (Melibell)



Category: Tales of Arcadia (Cartoons), Trollhunters (Cartoon)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, How many trolls can Strickler sleep with? The answer will probs be all of em., M/M, Original Characters from my Fading Light fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-01-26
Packaged: 2019-10-14 02:10:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17499611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melibell/pseuds/HeavenlyAsklepious
Summary: This is something I am writing in the Trollhunters Cry Corner, I am just putting it in one place for ease XD! It is talking about Strickler having to balance all the big buff trolls of arcadia ;p! It will include oc's from my other fanfic just to fill the spaces in between~ This has been put on hold for an unknown amount of time.





	1. Chapter 1

Angor Rot faces Bular across the large clearing. They circle, hands on their weapons watching for one wrong move. “This has gone on long enough, he is my bonded and you will leave him to me!” Bular shouts taking a step forward. Angor crouches. “He does not belong to anyone, let him make his own choice!” Bular pounds the ground with his fists then charges. Angor blocks his strikes with his new staff, the wood chips under the blows. “He chose me before you dared show your face!” They dance across the platform in a flurry of blows. Neither give the other a moment to speak in their frantic pace. 

Strickler hears the blows of metal on wood quite on accident. He was heading home but walking proved to be a bother so he took flight. That is when he heard it and saw the two trolls he was so enamored with fighting in a large clearing in the forest outside town. When they will understand that he cares for them equally, it is not a contest and he is not a prize to be won. Strickler pauses in the air to change directions then plummets towards the two fools. They break apart and that is when he takes the chance to land “Enough!” his voice is loud in the sudden silence free from the clashing of weapons. Angor straightens from his battle stance. “No, This has to come to an end here and now. It is me or him!” Strickler brushes his hair back with a tired gesture. “I care for you both, is that not enough.” he pleads, this rivalry will only end badly. Bular growls. “Get out of my way impure!” Strickler flinches at the word. He understands that Bular will not back down no matter what he says. Angor usually the one more amicable seems set as well. “It is almost day, you two cannot fight forever. We can talk, there is no need for violence!” he tries to bargain but the situation is beyond words. Bular loses the last strand of patience and jumps forward looking to weave around Strickler and attack Angor while he is distracted. It does not go to plan as the changeling anticipates and gets between Bular’s blade and Angor. Even though Bular stops and tries to pull the blade back it still slices down Strickler’s small body in a neat arc. He grunts and falls to the floor. An eerie silence settles over the clearing as the two trolls watch the one they love bleed into the grass. 

Angor is the first to take action, he picks up the injured changeling into the shade of the trees. Bular follows them with his eyes but does not move. *This was his fault. If he listened! Angor has treated many wounds over his long life but this looks beyond bad. “Bular! Give me the bandage.” The Gumm-Gumm does not understand, looking down at the blood at his feet. Angor curses. “Snap out of it! He will die if we do not stop the blood!” What wakes Bular is not Angor’s insistence but the sun as it starts to burn his horns. He hisses dropping to all fours and jumping into the shade. Angor with one smooth motion cuts off the leather strap covering an old wound on the larger trolls arm. Changelings are different then trolls, too fleshy and weak, Angor curses again. He puts salve on the wound but it’s not helping fast enough. It is not working. Despite the hopelessness of the situation he keeps trying. Bular is just staring with a terrified expression. Trollmarket is their only hope but it is not like they have made any friends. “Enough, he is dying...” Bular chokes on the word. Angor fixes him with a glare. “He dies, you die. Count on it.” Strickler weakly opens his eyes “Stop fighting dammit.” his breath hitches. 

“Take me...” his breath comes in rugged pants. “to Trollmarket.” The two trolls look at each other then nod. If that is the only chance to save their love they have to hope for the kindness of the Trollhunter despite everything. Bular now with a goal in mind takes action. He knows the streets better then even the locals after centuries of stalking in the dark. Angor follows his lead, carrying Strickler as though he was made of glass. 

Jim’s phone buzzes as he sits at a table surrounded by the diverse group that has come to calling themselves the Trollhunters. His brow furrows in confusion. “Who is it Jim?” Claire asks concerned. He is silent for a moment, double checking that he did not misread. “Uh, its Strickler. He is asking” Jim pauses, rereading the text. “no, begging for help. He says they are at the gates of Trollmarket.”

Angor types out the message at a slow pace, unsure of the technology. He hopes what he sent is enough. Strickler passed out minutes before they barreled down the canal. Bular hangs back knowing that if he is seen there would be no chance for the changeling. Angor hesitates as he slides the ring onto Strickler’s limp hand. They agreed there would be no control in their relationship but old doubts still service. He decided he does not care if the Strickler chose to enslave him again as long as he lives. 

The portal to Trollmarket shines as it opens. Angor breathes a sigh of relief even though their troubles are not yet over but at least the door is open. Jim’s eyes jump to Strickler whose blood is dripping into the concrete with every second. He drops his sword before securing it to his back. Neither of his old enemies seem to be in any shape to fight. Bular stalks in the bridge supports, ready to attack at any sign of danger. “We will take Strickler and help him as I have given him my word that he will be safe in Arcadia but you must stay here.” Angor grits his teeth, reluctant to let go of the changeling. Then sighs “Fine, Just help him!” Jim nods at Draal who takes the changeling, not missing the chance to growl at Angor with undisguised hatred. The portal closes giving Angor one last glance at Strickler. He has no time to sit there feeling dejected as the shadow of the bridge slowly crawls across the canal. Angor pushes up on the staff with an exhausted breath running up the canal wall to join Bular in the rafters. They still have to talk about how reckless they were. If the bigger troll has the capacity to talk instead of fight. 

Meanwhile in the depths of Trollmarket Draal sets down the broken changeling onto the table in Vendel’s workshop. The bleeding has stopped but he is still in a desperate condition. The skin curls out from the wound turning a sickly blue. The meat below pulses with every hitched breath, the wound is deep. Vendel is not sure he can help the changeling alone. “Get my apprentice!” Jim runs off to go find her. “Everyone else get out!” Blinky is about to complain but Arrrgh stops him with a word “Not Now.” Claire and Toby hesitate as well but leave without a word. Draal lingers. “I will stay in case the changeling is faking.” Vendel rolls his eyes. If such a wound could be faked it would be a miracle of the strongest magic. “Do what you will.” His apprentice shows up soon after caring medicine, bandages and hot water. Jim must have briefed her on the situation. The two trolls spend hours that stretch into days trying to keep the changeling alive despite his determination to enter the void. Draal stays at the door every stretch of the way.

Bular paces in the sewers of Arcadia with an angry energy, that is to say if he had any other energy. Angor watches him work deep grooves into the grime. “It has been five days since we let them take the changeling! With not even a word!” he shouts. Angor continues sharpening his blade with a calm he perfected over the years though inside he feels the same agitation as Bular. “We must trust that they will treat Strickler well! Better then you have at least.” He adds, his blade slowly sliding over the whetstone. Bular growls. “What did you say!?” the tunnel shakes as his fist hits the dirt. “You heard me! If you did not instigate that foolish fight he would have been fine! How many times have you hurt him over the years!?” Angor jumps out of the way of Bular’s punch, “That is none of your business slave!” He is about to take out his sword but pauses, thoughts going back to what he did. Angor Rot relaxes his grip on the blade, a moment away from activating the Creeper’s sun. “When Strickler does get better he would not appreciate it if we did not kill each other.” Angor says sitting back on his perch of scattered rock. Bular huffs, turning away. “You may sit here and wait like a coward. I will not.” 

The sound is what he notices first, used to the quiet of his home. It is disorienting his eyes refuse to open for longer then a moment. The dull lights above feel like the brightest stars shooting through his skull. Someone holds him tight to the table, he tries to flick his tail but it does not respond, his entire body refuses to move. Pain shoots through his chest with every breath. He vaguely hears a female voice “Stop moving! You will open your wounds child!” It sits strange with his mind, the voice sounds familiar “Mother?” he rasps. Her laughs is that of a bell. “Just lean back child, you are safe.” When Strickler is lucid again he will not remember any of this, it will remain a vague muddled dream. 

Vendel has retired many hours ago while Shaedi stayed behind to keep an eye on the changeling but even her energy has reached its last strand. She washes her hands off in the bucket of water that has long gone cold. It had been a long fight but the impure should live if he does not do anything reckless. “Draal” the large trolls comes in at the mention of his name. “Keep an eye on the Changeling, please darling?” Draal glances at Strickler. He is looking much better then he was brought in, clean bandages wrapped tightly around his chest and waist. Strands of rope hold the changelings tail that half way through the operation started trying to find something to strangle. “I will, get some rest.” Draal goes over to a gear sitting down. She nods in thanks leaving the room. Draal looks at the changeling with annoyance, he has better things to do then waste time on guarding the enemy. He questions the worth of letting the changeling into Trollmarket, enemies are meant to be killed not nursed to health. 

Bular grumbles as he smashes box after box in the large room. The Janus order lies in ruin but if any place would have a horngazel it would be here. Trollmarket will pay for leaving him in the dark. Angor is a slave to that dam ring so even if he could grow a spine it would be useless. Bular has no such chains. The impure belongs to him and if anyone thinks otherwise he will kill them. He grins as the last box reveals the telltale glow of Heartstone. He secures at his belt. “This is the last time you wrong me Trollhunter.” 

Strickler wakes up to gold red tinged eyes staring down at him with what can be best described as curiosity. Though to the changelings foggy mind they remind him of Bular and those rarely look on with anything but anger. He jumps back but the rope holding his tail snaps taught, he hisses in pain. Warm liquid spreads on the fresh bandages. Draal takes a step back. “Woah there Impure.” Strickler looks around the room with panic. Adrenaline from the fight still coursing through his mind and the pain spreading just like the blood on the bandages. He takes several deep breaths, forcing himself to calm down. “Why am I here?” his voice shakes with fear. Draal’s protective side swells, the impure looks terrified. The large troll can only imagine what it is like balancing the tempers of both Angor Rot and Bular. Clearly it did not work out well for him. “Nobody is going to hurt you here, if you relax I can cut you free.” Strickler looks down for the first time realizing his tail is tied down, rope cutting into the flesh. He nods but watches Draal’s every move with apprehension. 

The rope holding his tail snaps and Strickler jumps of the table, holding at his side. He takes one look at Draal then at the door and bolts. Trollmarket is in various stages of being rebuilt, its crystals dark and stoic. The trolls have taken to hanging up Christmas lights to add to the visibility. Strickler dodges between confused trolls not giving anyone a chance to catch him. “Impure, wait! Your wounds are not yet healed.” Draal shouts from somewhere behind. He ignores it jumping over a piece of rubble, but not quite making the landing and tumbling for a few moments. The bandages are stained with his blood and his vision starts to go dark around the edges. He grunts pushing up successfully after several tries, arms weak with exertion. Draal swears as he is not as nimble as the changeling. Trolls jump out of his way the best they can. Strickler turns back as he runs which in afterthought was a bad idea as he runs into a female troll. She turns looking down. “Are you not that impure causing chaos here all the time?” She spots Draal running through the crowd like a runaway gyre. Strickler breathes heavily, looking for a way to escape. The large troll woman clicks her tongue and knocks him out. Few minutes later Draal comes to a stop. “Thank Deya.” he huffs, socks and string dangle from his horns. “You are welcome, young Draal. Do keep better watch over the impure.” he huffs taking the changeling from her. “I will.” he looks down at the foolish creature. “Take him to the healer, she is at the forge.” Draal nods careful to not move to fast to aggravate Stricklers wounds anymore. The Forge is on the other side of Trollmarket but his hurried pace earlier cleared the path quite well.


	2. Chapter 2

Shaedi watches from above as Jim spars with Arrrgh in a carefree way when Draal runs in carrying the changeling. “Flesh-bag!” Even though Jim is no longer human the nickname has stuck. They stop sparring as they notice the changeling, beaten and bloody in his arms. Shaedi sighs jumping down from her perch by Deya The Deliverers memorial. “I told you too watch him! Not fight him!” Draal shrinks back “It wasn’t me, he ran!” she starts to unwind the bandages. “Set him down.” The wound is slowly oozing blood and the stitches have popped. She expected as much, changelings are notoriously bad at self preservation even if they claim the opposite. Vendel is still sleeping from the days they spent keeping this creature alive but her skill should be enough. Shaedi takes out soft cloth out of a bag that hangs at her side, slowly wiping away the blood with practiced strokes. Everyone watches her work in mesmerized silence. She threads a needle just as Strickler wakes up. “Hold him still.” she gestures for Jim to help. She turns to Strickler. “Relax changeling. We are here to help you unlike the company you chose to keep” she does not give him warning, pushing the needle through skin. He bites at his lip, fighting to keep still. Draal holds him more for support then restrain and Jim steps back to give Shaedi space.

Bular waits for dark to set before making his move. The horngazel runs along the wall he has chosen smoothly. It shines bright as the portal opens. This would be Bular’s first time in Trollmarket since the voyage. They must not have activated the shields that block him from entry yet. The Gyre station where he enters lies in shattered ruins.

The impure must be watched so it will not be easy to get to him. He stalks through the shadows with a measured gate, swords out. Trolls carry blocks and materials through the broken streets, slowly rebuilding after his fathers destruction. They are too occupied to notice the large Gumm-Gumm stalking the halls of their beloved home that has only just recovered a semblance of safety. The deeper he goes the harder it is to avoid the residents and there is no sign of the impure anywhere. Bular climbs up a darkened crystal with ease scanning the crowd. He spots the Trollhunter walking with those friends of his, unaware of the danger above. There is no need to get the Trollhunters attention.

His claws leave indents in the dead crystal as he climbs over the top of the cave. It is not long until he reaches the forge, which stands empty. His patience is waning for this search but he pushes on. It would be easier to start a scene and draw Strickler out but Bular has to admit it was causing a scene what started this mess.

Bular jumps down into the empty forge with a thud, dust rises around his feet. The eyes of the Trollhunters he has killed look upon him in silent disapproval. He cares not for their gazes walking out of the forge. It is a wonder he got this far without being detected. “Bular?!” a female voice comes from in front of him. “Sister, where is the changeling?!” she pushes off the wall. “Vendel’s workshop. Did you really risk your life for an impure?” he growls. “Point me in the direction.” She shrugs, nodding towards the tunnel too the right. He pushes past her without a glance.

He sniffs at the air finally picking yo the scent of changeling. There is another troll in the room ahead, one he knows all too well. “Draal.” He says a moment before the giant spinning form of the younger troll barrels into him. “Bular! The dead should stay dead in your case.” Draal blocks the entrance to the tunnel with his size so the room beyond remains a mystery. “I am here for the impure! Give him to me! I have no quarrels with Trollmarket today.” Draal does not back off. “Strickler stays here, and he does no appreciate you calling him impure!”

Strickler hears the commotion outside, getting up from where he was resting. He still struggles with walking steadily and uses a staff as crutch. Draal is getting pushed back by Bular against the walls of the tunnel. He sighs is it too much to ask for one week of peace. It is one battle after another, trying to balance one battle after another. “Stop!” Draal listens instantly, pulling back. Bular is not as willing to listen. “I will stop when you return to my side!” he flips the swords , pounding at the ground. Draal turns to get between the gumm-gumm and the changeling. “You will leave, now.” Bular growls. “I did not ask you, Monger! Come Strickler!” The changeling takes a step back “No Bular, I need to heal after what you have done. I will stay in Trollmarket as long as I am safe here.” Draal gets ready to charge. “You dare deny me? Think carefully Strickler for I will return and it will be with more causality.” The changeling waves him off. “If the Trollhunter killed your Father do you think you could stand a chance?” Bular flinches, growling. “You have no right to mention my father!” he tries to grab at Strickler but Draal blocks. “Leave Bular! You are only alive by your sister’s grace!” Strickler leans heavily against Draal, having enough excitement for his frail body. Bular sheathes his swords. “This is not over.” He leaves through the tunnel with one last glance.

Strickler breathes in relief after Bular is out of sight. Draal supports him with a gentle hand. “You should sit.” He says nudging Strickler back into the workshop that has become a makeshift room much to Vendel’s annoyance. Draal brought in furs to layer on the stone table. He knows from prior experience with Nomura that changelings prefer the soft comforts of humanity. “Are you wounds still sealed?” Strickler nods, running his hand down the bandages. “I am alright, just tired.” he yawns. The awkward silence spreads. Draal clears his throat. “Ah yes, tired. Flesh-bags need to sleep, I am going to go. Yes.” he scrambles out of the room, eyes wide. Strickler smiles amused. That troll has not left his side since he arrived in Trollmarket and even now lingers outside. Strickler know it is only because they do not trust him but it does feel nice to be protected for once. That will only last until he is healed then he has to face Bular which will surely end in death this time. When did the self preservation he so valued disappear?

Angor Rot is a patient troll, preferring to move slowly towards his goals even if that means Bular calls him a coward. That is why he stands in front of the Lake house awkwardly, waiting for the Barbara to return. It is protected by magic runes so he cannot get near or he would wait inside to catch them off guard. He found negotiations to go better when the other party is unbalanced. It is hours before she returns, long enough for him to start worrying about the rapidly sinking moon, the sun rays only moments from shining across the land. He steps out into the road in front of that strange metal contraption, it squeals to a stop.

Barbara returns from a long shift at work. Arcadia is still recovering from the eternal night fiasco and there is much work at the hospital. Her nights often blend in to days and time looses all form of meaning. She does not notice the tall troll stepping out into the road at first as she fusses with her bag for the keys. “Oh shit!” she presses on the breaks and the car skids to a halt. She goes for a stun gun that a few of her Father’s old friends loaned her after becoming aware of Troll’s. She does not really want to use but better be safe then sorry especially with Jim rarely leaving Trollmarket.

Angor does not seem like he is here to attack her though. There is concern clear on his face. She gets out of the car, holding the stun gun ready. “What do you want?” Barbara asks not going too far from her car door. He twists the staff slowly, it grinds into the ground. “I have come to ask a favor.” She blinks, that is not what she expected. “What favor?” she is still quite ready to taze him, if electricity works on trolls that is. “I trust you still keep contact with your son?” Angor pauses heavily then continues. “He is taking care of someone I care for, could you please call him to ask if they are okay.” Barbara lowers the gun at his pleading tone. Angor avoids details on purpose as he does not know how much the young Trollhunter tells his guardian. Barbara is hesitant but dials Jim after a moment.

Jim as always is training in the forge when he is not rebuilding Trollmarket. His phone rings with the expected gun-robot voice. He glides to a stop, answering it. It has been much harder to use his phone since the transformation but he is getting a hang of it. “Hey mom.” he listens to her, his eyes go wide. “What!? I’ll be right there.” Angor’s voice comes through “No need Trollhunter, just tell me how is Strickler? I will leave as soon as I know he is safe.” Jim tries to run his hand through his hair but forgets that the horns always stop him. “Strickler is fine.”

Barbara sets the phone on speaker and Angor takes two steps closer. “He kept opening his wounds but Vendel got him all patched up. Shaedi will not allow him to leave until he is healed which might be a month or so.” Angor nods, that wound was deep, it is a miracle the changeling survived. “May I see him?” Jim doesn’t miss a beat. “No. I trust you more then Bular but Trollmarket is off limits. Now leave, If i find out anything—” Angor cuts him off. “I will not hurt your mother Trollhunter.” Jim growls, it sounds garbled over the phone. “Get out and do not go near her again.” The lines goes dead with a click. Angor secures the staff to his back. “Thank you Barburah.” He starts leave without waiting for an answer. “Its…” she sighs as he is out of earshot. She is starting to think these trolls will never get her name right.

Bular goes back to the forge, Strickler is right, the fledgling Trollhunter bested him once. He is in no condition to fight him again, yet. Deya, his sister has moved from her vigil at the entrance to the tunnel instead she sits by the first Deya’s statue. “Giving up so easily brother?” she goads. He climbs up next to her, sitting on the ledge. “I do not give up so easily, they are fools to let me have way of Trollmarket and they will suffer for it.” His teeth grind in anticipation as a plan begins to unfold in his mind. “They trust I will keep you in check.” He scoffs at the idea. “The only oath I owe to you sister is to not kill anyone unnecessary. Any who get between me and the changeling I will count as necessary.” She shrugs, “Aw, look at you being all in love with an Impure.” he growls in warning but she continues. “Do you think if you bathe him in blood he will accept you, temper and all?” He jumps the last slither of space between them but she dodges deftly with a laugh. “Stop dreaming Bular, children of violence like us do not get to have loved ones.” She states simply jumping down into the forge. Bular does not follow as he can hear the Trollhunter approaching. Deya gives him a thumbs up to signal she will distract them. He huffs, climb up higher to stay out of sight. With his sister successfully distracting them he is able to leave, the only signs of his presence are the claw marks in the stone.

“This cannot go on any longer! It is not enough that you let those two gumm-gumm’s walk through the streets now you allow Bular?! That Impure has to go!” Jim flinches as the voices of the void echo through the space. “We don’t know how Bular got in and Strickler needed help. Say what you want but he helped us during the eternal night and we owe him!” He shouts right back. Jim has been putting out one fire after another after they decided to stay in Arcadia. “I can only be in so many places at once!” he adds. Deya sighs. “We know Trollhunter. You have to remember that there is little we know about those returned to you and why others linger in the void. We just ask you to be cautious.” Jim nods. The main issue is that they do not know why anyone of those thought dead returned. It is much more important then Strickler’s relationship problems. Jim makes a disgusted face, the last of his problems for sure. “Once he heals up I will make sure he will leave. So just wait.” Jim says not leaving room to argue as he leaves for the living world.

Vendel leans on his staff with Blinky and Arrrgh by his side. Toby is sitting talking to Claire across from him. Kanjigar stands by Draal’s side. Shaedi taking over watching Strickler. They all turn when Jim returns. “What did they say!?” Toby asks getting up. Claire joins him. “They said they want Strickler out.” Draal growls, surprising even himself. “The changeling is in no shape to leave.” Jim rolls his eyes. “I know, that's what I told them but if he is staying we have to deal with Bular.” One minute of rest is all Jim asks for. “The defenses of Trollmarket are still weak as the Heartstone recharges. Blinkous and I will search for a way to speed up the process. There was once a way to block horngazel access to certain trolls.” Vendel supplies, Jim nods. “Alright. Arrrgh will you help Claire and Toby rebuild the gear doors.” The larger troll nods. “What will you do?” Claire asks. Jim sighs, looking up at the statues above them. “I will speak to Deya, see if she can tell us anything about Bular we do not yet know.” Claire nods, then everyone jumps into action.

Kanjigar lingers in the forge after everyone leaves. “Son,” Draal turns back to his father. “Yes, Father?” Kanjigar looks down unsure how to phrase, he was always better at the feelings thing then Balustra but it is not easy still. “Are you making the same mistake again Draal? Remember how the relationship ended with the last impure.” Draal cringes, this is not what he expected. Kanjigar has been trying to atone for pulling away from Draal in the years as Trollhunter but that led to many awkward conversations. This being one of those moments. "It is not like that Father! I just, he needs our protection and Jim asked me to guard changeling!" Draal does not quiet believe his own words. “If you insist, but do watch yourself. .The changeling dabbles with dangerous company.” Kanjigar gets up heavily from where he was sitting, walking out of the forge. Draal curses is he really starting to gain feelings for Strickler like Father says?


	3. Chapter 3

Leathery skin ripples as Strickler unfurls his large wings to fill the room. They ache with disuse, crying for the open sky. He bends them back and forth, sighing in relief as the tension fades with every flap. His wound has healed enough to move without help now but it still sends sharp pains when he moves in the wrong way. If Strickler had his way he would have left Trollmarket by now, maybe leave Arcadia completely until tempers cooled on all sides.

The healer, Shaedi comes in from behind as he is stretching his wings. “Oh good! I was worried about your wings not getting any exercise.” She is a large troll with horns that curl back with long black hair stretching to the floor if it ever left her braid. Her stone is dark obsidian black and bright green eyes with red specks. “This helps but it would be better to fly.” He hints, she nods. “True but that is much to dangerous in your condition.” Shaedi goes around so he does not have to look over his shoulder. “I am fine.” He says curt. She rolls her eyes. “You can keep saying that but you are stuck here until I decide that you can leave. Your wound barely had time to heal, child.” He narrows his eyes. There is something so familiar about her and she clearly knows something about him but trying to remember is like looking into the void. It is the familiar feeling of having one’s memories erased but why of her? “Who are you exactly to order me to stay?” She does an exasperated shake of her head. “I am the Troll that spent three days patching you up and then two more making sure you woke up and then one more closing your stitches again!” he shrinks back a little bit, “I… thank you.” he nods, she smiles. “Don't sweat it my boy.” she takes one of the bigger gears pulling it closer to where he sits. “I didn’t come here to just shoot the breeze. I have something to tell you, my daughter…” she pauses “That’s Deya, have you met her yet? She likes to hide.” He shakes his head,“Like Deya the Deliverer? Is she one of the resurrected?” he asks confused. Shaedi waves it off. “No, no, Deya the Second, the deliverers child. It is all confusing and not important now, bother Blinkous if you want all the information.” He files it away to ask later. “So what did you want to tell me.” He asks, folding his wings. “I can offer you the ability to change.” his brows furrow in confusion “Change?” she nods. “I believe the word you use is polymorph.” she gestures vaguely. Strickler is not quite understanding what she means. “Are you offering to change me into a polymorph? How?” Shaedi shrugs. “Listen I do not know all the details, its some magic bullshit. I am here to ask if you want to do it. Should you accept, it will make you fertile.” Strickler chokes on what he is about to say. He knows those turned Polymorph retain their fertility but making someone capable of having children is a whole new level. “Only through the cutting’s of living stone but it is a start. Deya still breaking apart the spell with Douxie since Merlin scuttled off ages ago.” Strickler mind is reeling, he was so absorbed dealing with Angor and Bular that he failed to even know what chaos was going on within Trollmarket. He runs a hand over his horns, this is not something he would ever think it was possible. “What are the risks.” Shaedi leans back thoughtfully. “Pain mostly. It will hurt just as the transformation to changeling does. None of you foundlings remember what we did though.” his eyes narrow. “We did?” her eyes go wide as she lets the we slip “I was there when Morgana and Gunmar made changelings, my life story isn’t important.” Shaedi brushes his inquiries off, again. Which only makes him more interested. “I need to time to think.” his tail curls around the table, a nervous tick he hates. She nods “Take your time, this is a lot to consider.” She gets of the gear, towering over Strickler, starting to leave “Wait,” he says at the last minute, she stops before leaving the tunnel. “May i speak to Angor?” she smiles. “I shall speak with the Trollhunter, we have his ring after all.” Strickler flinches but nods. “Thank You.”

Bular tests the chains against his considerable strength, they hold. The cave is starting to look more hospitable the more stuff he brings from the warehouse. Kanjigar discovered his old home that night on the bridge. Bular thought he could stay as Kanjigar had no so called friends, a loner just like him but then he comes back to life. The museum was also not a valid option after the battle for Killahead. The only option to him really are these caves on the outskirts of Arcadia. They are well hidden under an ancient tree so Bular doubts humans even know of their existence. Some in Trollmarket may know of the caves but it is just a temporary arrangement. 

He throws dark rocks down to the ground, it is the last of his father’s remains. When he tracks down who has been responsible for the resurrections they will bring back Gunmar or perish. There are furs that the humans use in several different colors stolen from unsuspecting fleshlings. If the changeling is going to stay here, some comforts would be necessary. He steps back inspecting the cave. There is a makeshift chair to the left , furs on a wooden pallet on the floor by it. Bular takes one of the blankets and throws it over his fathers remains just to keep them safe until he can put him back together. The lights of Heartstone he took from Trollmarket hang attached to stalagmites on the ceiling. Satisfied that the cave is as comfortable as it is gonna get he sits down on the makeshift throne, sharpening his swords until night falls. 

Draal high fives Shaedi as they change shifts in front of what was Vendel’s workshop now serving as the living quarters of the changeling. When Draal enters the room Strickler instantly puts his guard up. It is clear the changeling does not trust larger trolls. It makes him feel guilty every time, he lingers at the door. “Hey, I brought some food from the fleshbags.” He gestures at the bag in his left hand. Strickler narrows his eyes, the changeling has not eaten much since he came here and Draal can tell he is starving. “Thank you, but I am fine.” Strickler barely manages to tare his eyes away from the bag, that smells quite good. “You need to eat impure.” Draal swears to himself. “Apologizes, I did not mean to say that” Nomura did not care how he referred to her, Strickler is more sensitive as he flinches at the word impure every time. “I will repeat it again, I am fine.” Draal huffs, sitting down on the workshop table next to the changeling. Those giant leathery wings curl around his thin form, tail moving in an agitated way. Draal gets up taking a few steps back and sitting down on the gear instead. Strickler relaxes a slither but not by much, at least the tail stops twitching. He opens the bag off pies Toby had given him a few moments ago. Draal takes one out and eats, it tastes worse then he imagined and he shudders. He will never understand the appeal of human food. Strickler chuckles at his reaction which Draal takes as progress. Slowly he holds out the bag to Strickler who hesitates then reaches across the distance with his tail. Draal does not speak as the changeling digs into the human food. 

“Hey, Trollhunter!” Shaedi runs to catch up before Jim is called away to yet another emergency. Arrrgh is with him carrying bundles of wood. “May I speak with you.” Jim looks around that a fire is not breaking out as Blinky argues with some trolls under and overhang then nods. “How’s Strickler?” Shaedi smiles at Arrrgh kindly with a nod before looking back at the Trollhunter. “That is what I must speak to you about.” Jim sighs, keeping an eye on Blinky’s argument that is rising in volume before looking back at her. “What’s wrong is he hurt?” Arrrgh walks over to stand by Blinky. Shaedi waves his concern off. “No, no. He is fine. I just have a small favor on his behalf.” Jim’s eyes keep going between her and the situation with Blinky. “What is it?” he asks exasperated, urging her to get to the point. “I need you to let Angor into Trollmarket.” This gets his undivided attention “What?! No! Out of the Question!” Shaedi does not get a chance to reply as Deya falls from somewhere up above by them. Jim jumps back in surprise, Shaedi used to her antics stays put. “Stop doing that!” Jim shouts with a growl. Deya ignores his complaint, her long white streaked hair in a tight bun behind her horns. “You will let Angor Rot into Trollmarket, I have use of him.” She says in her usual cryptic way. Jim shakes his head, annoyed. “Not everything is about who you can use! Use him for what?! What are you doing here, Who are you two! Tell me what your plan is!” Deya fixes the smaller Trollhunter with her burning eyes, smoke escapes through her teeth that don't quite fit in the mouth. “I owe you nothing Trollhunter.” she gets down on all fours still ending up face to face with the boy, he does not flinch back. “Let Angor Rot into Trollmarket if not for me, then for the Changeling. Did you not once claim to think of him as a father figure?” She circles Jim, his eyes follow her. “Did Angor Rot not stand against Morgana loosing his life in the process. I thought you of all people believed in redemption. I have made no request to let my brother into your precious market for he will never change but Angor has.” Jim bites his lips, then sighs with a slouch. “Fine. If you need him so much why do you not go get him?!” Deya huffs, standing straight. “No, I cannot leave the Trollmarket.” she states, not waiting for another word from Jim jumps up the nearby wall climbing into the darkness of the cavern ceiling. Jim rolls his eyes, jawline tight with annoyance. “Is she always like that?!” Shaedi shrugs. “Deya prides her self in being enigmatic and obstinate, you’ll get used to it.” The commotion of where Blinky is settles down by this point. Jim rubs at his brow, mumbling. “Maybe I don’t want to get used to it.” Shaedi laughs. “I will go fetch Angor Rot, you have other things to worry about.” She waves walking away, Jim reluctantly lets her go.


End file.
